


Miracles of Sherwood

by Ghost_Chan



Series: World of Magic [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug, Robin Hood - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Butterfly Miraculous, Cat Miraculous, F/M, Fox Miraculous, Historical, Lady Juno - Freeform, Miraculous Tattoos, Miraculous Thief, Misunderstandings, Original Miraculous Powers, Peacock Miraculous, Poor Plagg, Robin Hood - Freeform, We need Plagg Appreciation Week, butterfly hero in the endgame, no beta we die like men!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2020-10-11 23:11:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20554235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost_Chan/pseuds/Ghost_Chan
Summary: History always seems to revolve around the Ladybug and Black Cat, doesn't it? It makes sense, as they are the most powerful, the leaders of the Kwamii and the Marked. But too often the other tales have been forgotten, or lost to history. But not this one. This one has been preserved in song and legend, and now it can be told.This is the legend of Robin Hood, who rose to become a leader in Sherwood when the Black Cat was stolen. But this is also the legend of Lady Juno, who sought to bring justice for the ones who had been stolen from her.





	1. Come Now, Gather 'round

**Author's Note:**

> So. I'm going to say it now. I had this idea before Season 2 finished, so powers used here that are not Ladybug-Black Cat-Butterfly are non-canon-compliant for various reasons, which I will go over as they are introduced. Also, any slang or other offensive terms that might be used are strictly for story-telling purposes only, to keep the setting as true as the time period, and no real offense is meant.
> 
> Imagine you are in a tavern or inn, surrounded by your family or friends. You are resting from a long day of work or a day of journeying, laughing and talking with each other, when a bard settles near the fire. The first notes from a lyre settles the noise, drawing attention to the masked figure and the instrument they plays. Something seems off about this figure, something that you can't put your finger on, but their voice rings out...  
...and as you listen, the words they speak form images in your mind, of time long past, or from not so long ago, of the stories from our world of miracles.

_And the Greenwood Tree is where I shall be, waiting for you my love._

* * *

These days are not of calamity, but of peace. With our rightful king, a good king, sitting on the throne of our land, we know the only mischiefs that will strike us are from boys on the streets or a sprite’s play.

Yet there were times not like these, when the people would shy away from the king when he rode through town, when they were live in fear that the next tax day would bring ruin to them, and when the hanging gallows stood imposing over the people.

Though in times of calamity and chaos, it seems, a light breaks through the darkness to guide those lost to freedom, and to restore the hope of the people. In those times when brave Lionheart sailed away into the east, to the Holy City, and his brother stole the throne from him, when the Greenwood Tree was the safest place to be, there was an archer, whose tunes carried out from Sherwood Forest. And there was a lady, who sought to bring a close friend home, whose tails mixed with his, their tales interwoven into tragedy and fate.

Listen closely, for in this cold winter’s night, when sprites are at play in the star’s light and the fair folk wait for the moon to rise, we shall enter the mystical realm that surround our world. When the Zodiac wait for their leaders’ calls, and the Miraculous create illusions of wonder, and the Taiji watch and keep balance, great things happen.

Now listen, gather round, to the legend of Robin Hood and Lady Juno.


	2. The Origin of Robin Hood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Listen, and hear of the origin of Robin Hood, though he was not always known as such...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are many different tales of Robin Hood and his Merry Men, so I have pulled the ones that most stand out or occur often as a basis for this story. As said earlier, any slang or other offensive terms that might be used are strictly for story-telling purposes only, to keep the setting as true as the time period, and no real offense is meant. Also, stuff from the disappointment that is Season 3 is not used at all.

Robin Hood was not always known as such.

Christened Robert Locksley, his father, a yeoman, gained favor with King Henry, and was made Earl of Huntingdon, the land taken from an old Earl who died with no children. This happened after Robert was old enough to remember the move from the quiet home to the manor he would spend much of his childhood in.

As he grew, the manor staff gave him a nickname: fox-child. Turn a corner, and he was there. See him sitting at a table, look away for a moment, and then he would be gone. There was nothing he dislike more than not knowing how something worked, or being left out of making plans, and would usually slink around to know about it. The cooks complained about sweetcakes vanishing, and he was banned from the stables for startling the horses and forbidden from going near the chickens. His father often sat him down when Robert was wearing his ‘fox-grin’, which was usually a hint that he had been causing mischief.

His mother, though, a very wise woman, would sit him down not to scold him, but to guide him. The gleam she saw in his eyes told that an older, wiser soul, full of endless mischief was residing in the body of her young son. She sought not to quell, but to advise him, so he would stay on a rightful path, and not go wandering off into pain and suffering.

“Robert, love, observe the world. When emotions flare, only misfortune will come. Strike only if it deserved, and understand what is given to others will return to you.”

* * *

When Robert was eight, he met two of the most significant people in his life.

His father took Robert and his mother to one of the summer residence of King Henry the Second, where he was holding a gathering for the lords and knights of the region as he passed through. The king had his sons in attendance, so his father had hoped that he could make acquaintance with at least one of them. Robert, who had been outside Locksley, but only a short distance away and for a brief spell, could care less about making acquaintances. This was a new experience for him, even though the clothes he wore were itchy in comparison to what he normally wore.

“Stay close, Robert.” His father warned, but he was already making plans to slip away from the overbearing presence of his father. His mind was already calculating and observing the fine clothes and ‘proper’ high women and gentlemen around him. What to do, what to do? Sneak sweetened food away to snack on later, undo the laces of shoes and retie them together if possible, tug on ladies’ dresses and vanish before they turned, so many things to do! As long as his father didn’t catch him, he could make this a fun evening!

He had decided on sneaking food, and already had four sweets hidden away, moving towards the table for more. He had one hand resting on a sweetened cake when a voice stopped him.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Pardon?” Robert turned, meeting the eyes of a girl a year or two younger than him. Her hands were bunched in her skirt, but she was frowning at him. Unlike many of the older girls Robert had seen, she was alone.

“There is no way you could have eaten the breads you took a few moments ago.” She said, gaining confidence, looking at the table he had been prepared to approach.

“What if I did?” He challenged, grinning, hand moving away from the sweet. There was something about this girl he liked. Normally they would keep their heads bowed and eyes on him, but she kept her head up, and hadn’t curtsied to him. She saw him as an equal. Her eyebrows came together.

“That is impossible, unless...” she seemed to think, “are you are faerie in disguise?” His eyes lit up, and he laughed.

“I’m not a faerie, I’m a lad! Just like how you’re a lass!” He thought a moment. “You are, right?”

“That’s a ridiculous question, of course I am.”

“Matilda.” Both children looked over to see a boy, much older than both, walking towards them. Robin frowned, watching as the girl, Matilda, dipped into a curtsey. There were just some things about etiquette that he did not understand. “Did you escape your handmaid.”

“I did.” Matilda held her head high. “She was more interested in speaking with the advisor of Lord Walkern.

“And you are?” He asked, not particularly caring who he was. Matilda looked taken aback, then recovered.

“This is Prince Richard, third son of his Majesty King Henry the Second.” Robert sized the other boy up, who was doing the same, like a pair of hunting dogs or strange cats meeting for the first time. “Richard is my friend,” she placed a hand on the prince’s arm, “and I don’t know you.”

“This is Robert of Locksley, heir of Huntingdon.” A voice full of amusement said. A hand laid itself on Robert’s shoulder. His mother was standing next to him. “My son.” She swept into a curtsey. “Your Highness.”

“This is my mother, Matilda de Kevelioc, Countess of Huntingdon.”

“Countess Huntingdon.” The prince said, ducking his head. “It is good to see you in excellent condition.”

“And the same to you.” His mother knowing someone like the prince was a surprise, but one that Robert did not allow to knock him off-balance. “Are you making acquaintances, Robert?” His mother asked, but the gleam in her eye said that she knew he had been causing mischief. Her face was stern, but her eyes told a different story, as they turned toward Matilda. “I do not recognize your companion.”

“The Honourable Matilda Fitzwalter, daughter of Baron Fitzwalter.” Richard said, placing a hand on Matilda’s, where it rested on his arm. “A close friend of mine.”

“Well if you are going to become acquainted with my son, I request that you advise him to be more sly with the sweetened cakes he is sneaking away.” Robert grinned up at his mother, who had seen his first and second trips to the table. “Behave yourself, but I must go. Your father is looking for me.” The corner of her lips twisted upward for a moment before excusing herself.

“You have sweetened cakes?” Richard asked, curious about the exchange. Matilda flushed.

“Yes he does! I’ve been watching him sneaking cakes away since he got here.” Richard’s eyes gleamed.

“How have the bakers not caught you? Any time I try to sneak cakes, they always catch me.”

“What can I say; I am very sly. Foxes and mice would be jealous of me.”

“You have them stashed away, do you?” Both boys smiled conspiratorially, while Matilda only shook her head. “How about we toast our meeting with barley tea and some of these cakes?”

“So be it!”

* * *

The night was dark on the twelfth anniversary of Robert’s birth. The moon was high in the sky, and all the residences of Huntingdon Manor were resting, aside from the guards. In his bedroom, Robert was sleeping, though restlessly. All during the day, his eyes had been drifting, and he could not be still, moving from place to place. There was something in the air that didn’t feel right to him. Like a cat about to pounce on a mouse, or the tension before an arrow was loosened.

And he was the only one who felt it. None of the servants seemed to notice anything, and the guards, who were normally so alert to changes in the air, were relaxed. Something was going on, or was about to happen, and it was putting Robert on edge, the fact that he did not know what it was.

At the midnight, Robert stirred, eyes opening to the dark of his room. Something on his back was itching. It started out like an ant crawling down his back, then it felt like stinging nettles, poking into his back. He groaned, sitting up and trying to scratch his back. But the pain continued to intensify, sweat breaking out across his body. At the same time, goose bumps shot down his body, making his hair stand on edge. Something dangerous was nearby.

“What? Who’s there?” He called out. The itching on his back grew worse, as did the heat. An aching that caused his whole body to shudder, making the pain worse.

There was a wind, whistling through the trees, taking in the sunlight. There were shadows, leaping and changing, sowing chaos, but also guiding. There was no undoing something that had been done. There was pain. There was frustration, of unfinished business. There was freedom. There was mischief and trickery, jealousy and devotion, cleverness and blinding anger. Plans laid, plans succeeding, and plans crumbling. There was no going back, no way to turn back time, only growing up and out. What was seen and experienced was malleable, and the truth could be changed.

There was death, a sense of finality, and peace.

His mouth opened, but no sound came out as back arched, before it became too much, and he collapsed on his bed, tears escaping his eyes. The room was bathed in an orange glow, but Robert never saw that.

Stamped into his back, casting the glow about his room, burned through his nightshirt, was an intricate tattoo, pentagons and roots weaving around a fox’s tail.

* * *

It was winter when Robert’s mother passed away. The cold had been harsh to everyone in the land, sickness striking rich and poor alike, among the discord of rebellion. In Huntington Manor, many of the staff had taken sick days to recover.

His mother had been struck early in the winter, dismissing it as a simple cold. But as the days continued, she only grew weaker. Eventually, she was bed stricken, slowly losing all the color in her face.

“There are some things you can’t change, Robert.” She told him, hand clasped in his strong ones. He had been telling her about a bow he had made, out of wood from the nearby forest, and how frustrated he was that the wood had broken when he was almost done. “Eternity is too long for regrets, so do not hold onto grievances.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“And no grudges either.” She weakly scolded him. “They are unbecoming of you.”

He told no one, but that night, his mother entered his room, ran a hand through his hair, and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead before leaving.

The next morning, cries filled the castle as the Countess was found dead, her body having failed against the sickness that had taken her.

In private, Robert mourned.

* * *

Sometimes, Robert would find himself looking off into the forest. There was no reason why, but when there was nothing else on his mind, he would stare into it’s depth. Or he would be practicing his shooting, and be distracted by movement within, only for it to be a bird or deer.

There was something there, he just knew it. He would occasionally wander in, losing sight of his home and everything that was familiar, but he still felt like he had to go further still. There was something he was missing. Something that he was lacking...

But what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical References:  
_where he was holding a gathering for the lords and knights of the region as he passed through_: Henry II traveled constantly, instead of staying in one specific area, allowing him to see the land.  
_Lord Walkern_: The de Lanvallei family was one of the groups who helped with the Magna Carta. William de Lanvallai I, the grandfather of the Lord Walkern who was involved in the Magna Carta, was appointed to his position by Henry II.  
_"and I don't know you"_: It was in good manners to be introduced to someone new by a person who knew you both and could act as a middleman. To do so otherwise was very rude.  
_Barley tea_: Water and milk were not common drinks, due to how easily they could be contaminated. Beer, which fermented the contamination away, was the most common choice, and was not as potent as it is today.
> 
> If I got any of my facts wrong, please correct me. More details how the Fox and the world it is in will come later.  
Until next time!


	3. A Peacock's Worries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Black Cat is confident, and a Peacock worries.

The land was quiet for the most part. People were asleep in their houses, animals were resting in their dens, and the partial moon was giving off a gentle light, bathing the landscape in shades of grey.

One person was not sleeping, however. She was running through the forest, the edges of her blue veil and dress snapping as she dashed forward, dodging trees and bushes, leaping over roots and rocks. She emerged into an open field, pushing herself further now that there were no obstacles in her way.

She was free. Free from the customs of society, free from the expectations pushed upon her, and free from the illusion she had created to protect her family’s reputation. She could be herself, not bowing her head to people who did not deserve the respect, not hiding her wisdom. She could speak her mind, sharing the wisdom she had gained. She could be a protector, shielding her home from danger. She was a peacock, regal and majestic, strong and graceful, powerful and wise.

Most nights, she would be content to run, patrolling that land that was her home, but tonight, she had a goal. Just behind a grove of trees, her destination approached, a decently sized manor. Instead of dashing through the trees, she widened her steps, the cloth that hung from her shoulders spreading. As she sprung up above the treetops, the cloth stiffened, carrying her over the branches, like a bird gliding on the wind. The grove was short, so she was able to land beyond safely the trees, continuing towards the manor.

The tallest tower was dark and empty when Lady Juno arrived, the wing-like cloth settling over her shoulders and draping down her back. Her sharp brown eyes scanned the grounds. The summer manor was empty, sans the servants who maintained it, but the night could hide anything. Dark nights, or nights in general, were not a friend to peacocks. Instead, the night was more of a friend to,

“Lionheart.” The black cat had leapt onto the same roof as her, amber eyes bright in the dim light.

“Lady Juno.” He took one of her gloved hands, raising it for a kiss.

“Please stop that.” She scolded, exasperated but not truly annoyed.

“You are my equal, and my friend.” The black cat smiled, his voice carrying a hint of the Limousin tongue. “It is only right that I treat you as such.”

“As an engaged lady, my fiancé might not appreciate the gesture. You know as well as I do that he can be very jealous over me.”

“But as your equal and companion in our struggle against the dark forces of this world, allow me.” She tilted her head slightly, conceding this point. She had been frightened and confused when the marks of her miraculous had appeared on her back, and when a peacock pin that held more than one secret made its way into her possession. It had been Lionheart who had helped her along, having received his miraculous several years earlier. Despite their age difference, they had worked well together, bringing peace to the land and fighting the forces of darkness.

They had no need to share their identities, but when Lady Juno rescued Prince Richard from a witch-bandit, his secret had been revealed to her. Although it had been a shock to them both, it had made their bond stronger. As they grew older, and Richard became king, society deemed it improper for them to be alone together. They were not equal in the eyes of society. But he was one of the few that appreciated her wisdom, and for all of his carefree attitude, nonchalance, and pride, she was glad that he treated her as an equal, and not as something to own or someone to look down upon.

She hoped that he would consider her wisdom now more than ever.

“Lionheart...” she began, “do not go to Jerusalem. Although His Majesty Philip the Second has agreed to accompany you, there are dangers that should not be ignored. He might betray you while on the battlefield. The witch-clan we defeated six months ago is beginning to build up their numbers again, and His Majesty William the First of the Scotts may turn from his agreement with you.”

“I am aware of these things, Lady. Do not fear, I have taken them into account. The regents I have appointed will guard the land.”

“Who have you appointed? Being away from court has made it more difficult to obtain news.”

“His Grace, Hugh de Puiset, Bishop of Durham. And William de Mandeville, the Third Earl of Essex.”

“Both good men.” Lady Juno hummed, but this did not settle her nerves. “What of your brother?”

“John? He may be ambitious, but he will respect my right as king.”

“He was your father’s favorite, though, even though he eventually sided with you. And with you away, he might attempt something.”

“I understand your concern, Lady. Truly, I do. But I have thought of everything.” At Lady Juno’s skeptical look, he continued. “I have spoken to both His Grace Hugh de Puiset and Earl Mandeville. They have agreed to have men watching his comings and goings.”

“You place too much confidence in this, Lionheart.” It would be considered treason to speak those words to him out-of-mask, but here it was different.

Lionheart replied, “and you worry too much, Lady Juno,” as he took her hand in his, giving it a light squeeze.

“I only worry about what I see as a danger.”

“This crusade will last less than two years, Matilda.” She hated the use of that name while she was Lady Juno, but allowed it, once, by him. “I trust England’s integrity to those I have chosen, and it’s safety to you.” He drew her into a light embrace. She rested her head next to the fur that surrounded his neck. “My only regret is that I will not be able to see your wedding.”

_So quick to change topics. _Lady Juno sighed internally. _He does not understand. He is too confident, and that is what I am afraid will bring trouble to both of us._

* * *

Lady Juno leapt lightly over the wall that surrounded her family’s manor, eyes on the lookout for the night guards. Seeing none, she dashed to the wall under her window, and in one easy leap, had arrived on the sill. Separating one feather from her fan, she inserted it into the lock, opened the latch and slipped inside, closing the window behind her and drawing the blinds.

“Feathers fall, Duusu.” Lady Juno said, a blue glow enveloping her. A small blue kwami emerged from the pin on her chest, which turned pale bronze with topaz beads. The woman turned to a table, lighting a candle while Duusu floated over to a bowl of berries. Duusu looked up as Matilda began stripping her clothes, donning a soft nightgown. The cloth dropped down her back, hiding the peacock tail that was branded into her back.

“You’re frustrated.” He stated, feeling her heart through their connection.

“He does not understand, Duusu.” Matilda sighed, clipping the pin onto her nightgown. “He is placing too much confidence in his knowledge and plans. By thinking he has everything under control, he is ignoring the dangers.”

“Such is the curse of a peacock.” Duusu hummed in agreement. “We are blessed with knowledge and foresight, but not everyone heeds it. Especially those who have too much confidence in their powers. Black cats in particular are confident and instinctual. Some are worse than others.”

“But does our friendship count for nothing?” Matilda sat on her bed, fingers brushing against her cold sheets.

“Never think that.” Duusu scolded. “I think he considers you the closest friend he has in and out of the court. You are the one he trusts the most.” Matilda looked uncertain, so he continued. “Consider the work he has put into preparing for this journey. He is confident that it will be over soon, and there is nothing to fear.”

“Something seems amiss, Duusu. There is something that does not seem right, but I simply cannot understand what.” Matilda had pulled her hair into a simple braid and was settling under the covers of her bed.

“Don’t worry, chick.” Duusu settled next to her head. “Hopefully we will be lent some good luck from Tikki and our worrying will be for nothing.”

“Yes...I pray that it is so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical References:  
_...carrying her over the branches, like a bird gliding on the wind_: Peacocks _can_ fly...just not very far. I wanted to put in limitations and abilities based on the animal the kwami represents. This is why Chat Noir has good darkvision and ladybug does not. I also think it's fun for the animal traits to carry over to the holder out-of-costume. Like...Chat Noir purring. :)  
_You are my equal_: This is very important, because it is the basis of all social interactions in the middle ages. It was fine socializing and being friendly with someone of your equal rank, whether they were male or female, but the moment someone not of your rank (higher or lower) was with you, expectations and societal rules changed. By saying this, Lionheart is confirming her as a miraculous holder, and someone on equal standings with him.  
_Limousin_: Richard was said to be well-educated, knowing both French, and it's southern dialect Limousin.  
_His Majesty Philip the Second has agreed to accompany you..._: Philip II and Richard did not trust each other very much. If one were to go on the crusade, they worried their land would be taken over by the other who stayed. So they both went on the Third Crusade.  
_His Grace, Hugh de Puiset, Bishop of Durham. And William de Mandeville, the Third Earl of Essex._: Both men were appointed to their positions in real-world history when Richard left on the Third Crusade. Hugh de Puiset was a bishop, and the Chief Justiciar for Richard. William de Mandeville was a noble, and had participated in one of the Crusades. However, problems came up down the road when one of these two men died.  
_...even though he eventually sided with you_: There was a whole, complicated rebellion between Henry II and his sons, in the early 1170's, stopped after about 3 years, and restarted in the early 1180's. John was Henry II's favorite son, who was supposed to be given a piece of land that Richard controlled. Richard, understandably, was not pleased to have his land taken.  
(for the sake of this world, let's say the history was less complicated and had more magical-stuff going on behind the scenes)  
_He drew her into a light embrace..._: As stated above, being of equal rank with someone was very important. Hugging someone of the same or opposite gender was fine, as long as they were of the same rank. There were other ways of greeting, which varied by class (the common class was the least-concerned with such things). In fact, the salute we know originated in the middle ages.  
_Black cats in particular are confident and instinctual_: I believe the cat miraculous aligns most with the yang sign of yin-yang, although the cat miraculous also has some yin traits (such as being dark, of water, and being cold). Cat and ladybug and equal, after all.
> 
> Yikes. Those are more references than it seemed. Anyway, until next time!


End file.
